Revelations (Fall and Rise of the Condor 4)
by jublke
Summary: Following implant surgery, Chief Anderson requires Jason to come clean and prove his honesty by providing details of exactly what went wrong with his implant and how it has impacted his health. Reluctantly, Jason complies, but he is startled to discover another reason for the assignment … Fourth in the Fall and Rise of the Condor series. AU set after the show. Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

This is a work of fan-fiction. _Battle of the Planets_ is the property of Sandy Frank by way of Tatsunoko. No copyright infringement is intended.

I was inspired to write this story after reading _Confession_ by Catherine Rees Lay. My thanks to Becky Rock, John Kelsey and Catherine Rees Lay for beta-reading. I also want to thank Nancy Tang, Eric Carter, and other members - both current and past - of the BotP mailing list for letting me bounce around ideas for how cerebonic implants might work. Any remaining errors are mine.

This story is set roughly six months after _Strike at Spectra._ In my _Fall and Rise of the Condor_ series, it follows _Rebuilding_ and directly follows _Rock Bottom_.

* * *

Mark was sitting on the sofa, scanning a magazine and enjoying a late-night cup of tea, when Jason stalked into the ready room and threw a sheaf of paper at him.

Here," Jason said, rubbing his right hand with his left. "I have writer's cramp, thanks to you."

Mark closed the aviation magazine to stare at his teammate. "What're you talking about?"

"My medical history. The Chief said I had to give you a complete account of my physical condition before you'll let me back on the team." Jason was still rubbing his hand. "So there you go."

Mark eyed the stack of paper. "Just how much is wrong with you?" he asked, with a sidelong grin.

Jason grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at Mark's head. "Jerk."

"Seriously, Jason, what's this about?"

Jason shrugged. "If I'm going to be straight with you, we might as well start at the beginning." He held up a hand, forestalling Mark's questions. "It's been a long day and I'm going to bed." Jason tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "I'll talk with you about it after you've read that."

Mark looked at the papers in his lap and shrugged. "All right. See you tomorrow."

"Good night." Jason yawned again and walked out of the ready room.

Once his teammate was out of sight, Mark sighed. _What now?_ His mind wandered over the past few months, starting with that disastrous strike at Spectra. After that mission, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that Jason was seriously ill. Fortunately, the team had managed to thwart the plot by a Spectran plant in Medical to leave Jason's condition untreated.

Not so fortunately, Jason had severely injured his ankle during the early weeks of his recovery from implant surgery. Just today, he had finally passed the fitness exam required of all level G personnel. But Mark's joy at having Jason's G clearance reinstated was tempered with the knowledge that Jason was no longer the Condor he once was.

 _I can't believe that Jason barely passed aerials. I suspected that he was having trouble with his balance, but I had no idea how bad it really was._

Mark hadn't been the only one present at Jason's fitness exam to be surprised that the Condor was struggling to fly. Chief Anderson had been beyond furious that Jason, once again, had failed to fully disclose his medical problems. Only Mark's quick intervention had forestalled a major blow-out between the Chief and Jason. But, to his credit, Jason appeared to be making good on his promise to come clean.

Mark reached into his pocket for his reading glasses, carefully wiped the lenses, and put them on. He looked down at the first page with a sense of trepidation.

* * *

Mark:

Thanks for getting the Chief off my back. I don't say thank you often enough and I should. You're a good friend.

I know that I don't deserve a second chance. I've lied to you about my health more times than I can count. You deserve better than that. My secrecy nearly got us killed on Spectra; I realize that now. I'm damn lucky that I didn't blow you to kingdom come with that super sniper missile. I won't rely on luck in the future.

I'm not sure how to start this memo. I've never told anyone about any of this but I know that you deserve the truth. You've always believed in me and your support means a lot. Even if the Chief wasn't breathing down my neck, I would have tried to find a way to tell you.

I've told the Chief that I don't remember when it all started but that's a lie. I know exactly when I realized that I had a problem. But it was so long ago that I could never admit it to the Chief. It's hard enough just to tell you.

I hope that, one day, you can trust me again.

Jason

* * *

I was driving at the track, enjoying a rare day off. The day before, we had rescued Keyop from those giant alien beetles in Capital City, so I was glad to finally have some free time to kick back. I'd just finished patching up my car and I was taking her around the track to check the alignment. It was nice out, the kind of afternoon I love to spend at the track, with clear skies and no wind. Everyone was gone, too, which I really like. I can open her up, try anything, and not have to worry about maneuvering around some rookie driver.

I was just coming up on my 9th lap when it happened.

Usually, I don't notice things on the sidelines when I drive; everything's moving too fast to really look at anyway. But this time I was watching a billboard, the one with the fat guy trying to sell me life insurance. I was thinking to myself, _Buddy, you have no idea how expensive my life would be to insure_ , when it happened. One minute, he was there. The next, he was gone.

I downshifted so hard that my car screamed in protest. I had barely braked to a stop before I hopped out. I ran through fumes of burnt rubber toward the sign. It was exactly the way I had remembered it. Nothing had changed.

Nothing except me. I felt cold and clammy and slightly dizzy. I was too shook up to keep racing. I started the car. I was driving it slowly back to the garage when it happened again. My vision swam for a minute, then cleared.

By now, I was really worried. I was glad that I was at track alone, because I started babbling to myself.

"It's no big deal," I remember thinking out loud. "I'm just tired. There's nothing wrong."

But it didn't feel like nothing and I couldn't quite convince myself that I was all right until later that evening. Once I got back to the trailer, I took a long, hot shower and finally started to relax.

 _I just imagined it_ , I told myself. _I'm just tired. It's stress and overwork, nothing else_.

I know you're asking this: Why didn't I go straight to the Chief? I wish I could answer that. I don't have a good reason. I'm good at ignoring pain; that's what makes me invincible in the field. At least, that's what I believed then. I know better now.

The next morning, we were called into battle before dawn. Remember when Zoltar used that giant mechanical whale to blow up the Bay City harbor? I still felt tired and worn out, but once I transmuted, my fatigue faded and the mission went well.

One thing did happen though. It was so minor that I didn't think about it at the time. But if you listen to transcripts of the mission, you can find it. It's a wonder that Zark never pointed it out to the Chief. I know the Chief has been going over our mission logs, trying to figure out what happened and when it happened. When did my health start to fail? Why is it only so painfully obvious to me now?

We had been tracking a pod of migrating whales, when a mecha surfaced. You can hear my voice on the tape saying, "Something's coming over the horizon, but I can't make it out."

And you answered me, saying, "I can see it. That's our giant whale … a giant mechanical whale."

Hold it right there. If you or I had been paying attention, we would have suspected something was wrong. Our implants are the same model, calibrated to be identical in the field. Sure, you'd expect some difference in performance. But that much? When I couldn't see the mecha and you could, it should have been a red flag. Now I wonder: was I having trouble with my vision even then, even in birdstyle?

It's hard for me to admit that I didn't go to you for help. But it's even harder for me to say this: I didn't even consider it. I knew something wasn't right but I just brushed it aside.

For a long time, nothing else happened. I assumed that things had gone back to normal. My vision loss was a fluke, some random event brought on by fatigue and overwork. And then it happened again.

I should have known something was wrong when I fell asleep at my command station during the attack of the space octopus. Remember when we lost the ship? The Chief called us into the war room right after the debriefing because he was so worried that Spectra was going to retaliate. We had to help the ground forces come up with a strategy for repelling the Spectran attack until the new Phoenix could be built. We never got a chance to relax; we just ran from one meeting to the next.

The Chief was waiting for us in the war room with stacks of computer printouts, a laser pointer, and steaming mugs of coffee. But the first thing that I noticed was that the lights in the room were incredibly bright.

 _I must be getting another headache_ , I thought. _I seem to be getting a lot of them lately._

The Chief pulled down the map on the far wall and showed us the location of Spectra's new base of operations. Then, he indicated Energy Complex AB-2, the facility that had been destroyed when we lost the Phoenix, along with likely future targets, which seemed to include all known energy production facilities in the world. At least, that's what I think he was doing. I couldn't see the print on the map at all. Everything was blurry.

 _I'm just tired,_ I remember thinking. But I noticed that no one else seemed to be having trouble seeing the map or reading the blackboard, which was rapidly filling up with the Chief's chicken scratches. I caught the look on the Anderson's face and I knew that he was going to ask me something.

So I did the only thing I could think of: I fired up my implant. In a few minutes, I went from squinting at blurry text to examining minute flecks of chalk. I remember that I dutifully read the board in time to answer the Chief's next question. No one realized that anything was different but me. I was just relieved to have found a way around the problem.

After that mission, I began to notice that I was having problems with my vision when I wasn't in birdstyle, especially at a distance: trouble seeing the maps in debriefings, blurriness at the track, difficulty reading street signs. Remember when my target shooting scores started to drop off? Now you know why.

I couldn't tell if my vision problems were giving me the headaches or the other way around. And every now and then, my vision would just completely go out, like it did that first day at the track. But it was easy to get around most of that stuff because of the implant.

Through all this, I've figured out a lot about how cerebonic implants work. As you know, in birdstyle our implants work seamlessly with our bodies. But in civilian life, the Chief designed them so that we have to make a conscious effort to get a boost from their power.

For me, it takes a few minutes of intense thought to fire the implant up completely and the effect lasts for about two hours at a time. Certain abilities, like flying and increased speed and agility, take effect almost instantly. But others, like enhanced sight and hearing, take longer. I suspect it's the same for you. But you might not realize this: after two hours of working in civilian mode, our implants require a five minute cooling off period to recharge.

I talked with the Chief about it one time, why using the implants apart from transmutation is such a pain in the ass. "Couldn't you and Zark have designed something better?" I asked. But the Chief told me that they made the implants that way on purpose.

"It's for your own protection," he said. "Especially when you were little, I was afraid that you'd forget you're cerebonically enhanced and brag to your friends about something that they couldn't hear or see. I couldn't take that risk. Your life, and the life of your teammates, depends upon everyone thinking you're normal children."

"Besides," the Chief had added, "it's good for you to understand what normal life is like. Remember, if you need to use your implant for more than a few minutes, it's time for you to transmute and go to work."

I have to admit, in some ways it's a nice system. The last thing that I want when I'm at the track, or lounging at the trailer, is to feel like I'm still on guard, waiting for Spectra to strike. I can't relax when I'm enhanced. I associate hypersensitivity with work. I'm always aware of my surroundings, but that acute sort of hyper-awareness places a distinct line between work and home.

At least, it should. Over time, I started to access my cerebonic implant at home any time that it was important for me to see clearly. It didn't seem to be such a big deal at first; I was just using it to be a little more careful when I drove or to make sure that I didn't miss out on something during a meeting. Keeping my vision clear seemed to keep the headaches at bay, too. I didn't need to do it very often, so it didn't seem that important.

But things got a lot worse after I was hit with that detransmutation ray. Man, that laser beam really wiped me out. I remember when it happened: I was standing on that rockslide over by the Compton Raceway, trying to figure out what the Spectrans were doing to my car. Looking back, I guess my eyes were bothering me then, too. Stress always seemed to make it worse. I had just been pinned by a team of goons and had narrowly missed getting crunched.

So, I was standing there, squinting down at my car, when I realized that they had detransmuted the G-2. I know I should have reacted faster when they aimed that big gun at me, but I was too busy trying to gauge the distance for throwing a shuriken into the muzzle. I jumped late and got nailed in the leg. It was the worst feeling, like someone scrambling the wires in my brain. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Instead, I fell over backwards and hit my head. By the time I finally got back for the meeting with the Chief, I was too ragged to look him in the eye. I knew he wouldn't believe me anyway; he was so furious that I was late that he wasn't listening to anything I said. I don't think he ever knew how bad that thing messed me up.

It was after that attack that I started using the implant regularly in civilian life. I want to make one point clear here: I never was impaired on duty. I need you to know that, Mark. Up until we found Don I never had any problems at work, at least not any that I was aware of at the time. I thought I had everything under control.

But it wasn't long before I was using the implant nearly all the time and it's just not designed to be used that way. I had to constantly find new ways to fill the five minute gaps when it was recharging. If I was practicing laps at the track, it was, "Give me a few minutes, I need to re-check the engine." If I was in a briefing with you or the rest of the team, I had to run in to grab a jacket or use the bathroom. I'm skilled at deception, but keeping track of the implant cycle was wearing me down. Every two hours, a new jolt of adrenaline was blasting through my system. I was always on edge.

This next part is hard for me to write, but you deserve to know. My headaches were out of control at that point. When I got them, nothing else mattered; nothing could stop the pain. Remember that night in the dorms when you thought I was drunk? I was doped up on codeine. I never should have gone to Jessie for help, but I knew that if I got her drunk I could talk her out of some painkillers. I just wanted something to take the pain away, to help me relax, to get me some sleep. I didn't take the pills often. But when I did, I was locked in a vicious cycle: adrenaline by day, narcotics by night.

I think that was about when I found myself saddled with a new reputation, courtesy of Zark: I was difficult to get along with. Zark said that you could tell just by looking at my scowling face. In truth, I was often caught between boosts of the implant, unable to see clearly, raging at myself and my limitations. I was tired from firing up the implant so often. I worried constantly that someone would find out how messed up I was and I'd get kicked off the team. I have no excuses for my behavior. I just wanted the problem to go away.

I'd like to tell you that one day I finally would have gone to you or the Chief for help. But then something happened at the track. After that, I was too afraid to tell anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jason," Doc Gibson called me into his office. "Come here a minute."

I pulled off my racing helmet and followed him. "Sure thing, Doc, what's up?"

Doc was looking at some forms on his desk. "I noticed that you haven't turned in the forms for your yearly physical."

"Oh, I forgot," I lied. I didn't tell him the truth, which was that I simply didn't want to deal with it.

"Well, let's take care of that now, shall we? It's just a few boxes to fill out. Won't take but a few minutes."

I stood there, mouth open. I knew I was closing in on two hours and my implant-enhanced vision wasn't going to last much longer. It would take me a full five minutes to fire it up again.

But Doc had already pulled out his stethoscope and was examining me. I tried to keep calm, hoping that somehow this would keep my vision clear. But I knew it didn't work that way. I needed to buy some time.

After testing my reflexes and looking down my throat, Doc was ready to start the part of the test that I was dreading. Would my eyes work or not?

"All right, Jason, look up here. Cover your left eye."

"Just a sec, Doc, I need to use the bathroom," I lied.

"Here, Jason." The old man smiled, handing me a small plastic cup. "You might as well give me your urine sample while we're at it."

I looked at the specimen cup and back at Doc. "All right," I said, wondering if I could actually fill it.

I closed the bathroom door and forced myself to fire up the implant, but I just couldn't feel anything. I was tired and my head ached. We'd just saved the nuclear power plant the day before and handling those live wires had really done a number on me. I'd gone straight to the track in the morning to try and get away from things and relax.

I stood in the bathroom for a full five minutes, counting the seconds in my head. Finally, I managed to fill Doc's cup, washed my hands, and went back to his office.

"Here you go," I said, affecting humor that I didn't feel. My hands were cold and I felt slightly dizzy.

 _Why don't I feel better?_ I thought. _The implant should be working by now._

"All right, Jason." Doc was sitting at his desk, fiddling with a small, battered-looking piece of equipment. "Let's get this over with. Cover your left eye."

Doc projected letters on the wall and I began to read them off like clockwork.

 _No problem_ , I thought. I didn't realize that something was wrong until I got to the last line.

"I … X … Q … " I read slowly. The letters were blurry. I squinted at the chart. "G … no, O …"

 _How is this possible?_ I thought. _I waited five minutes._ Then I realized my mistake. I must have misjudged the time. I was in the middle of the five minute window where the implant wouldn't work. There was nothing I could do.

Doc Gibson was frowning at me, writing something on his clipboard.

"Okay, Jason." Doc's voice had quickly changed from casual observer to concerned doctor. "Let's try your left eye."

I covered my right eye with my hand. _Surely, the implant will fire up any second_ , I thought. _I didn't do too badly with my right eye. I can get through this_.

That's when I got the shock of my life. I couldn't see anything at all.

"Jason?" I heard Doc's voice repeatedly asking me to read letters on the wall, but I couldn't see any of them. Everything was a blur.

 _I can't see anything with my left eye_ , I thought. _Oh, my God._

I heard Doc shut the door. Then I heard the sound of Doc flipping dials again. Suddenly, there was a large, fuzzy E in my field of vision.

"Can you read that?" Doc asked.

I swallowed. "E."

"Good," Doc said. "You had me worried there for a minute."

 _A minute?_ I thought. _This is a nightmare._

"How about this line?"

The letters were smaller now and less clear than the big E. I stumbled through a few of them before Doc let me off the hook.

"All right, Jason, that's enough." He put the projector away. I stared at the floor. I couldn't look him in the eye.

 _Hell,_ I thought. _Apparently, I can't look anyone in the eye._

Doc pulled me by my elbow and sat me down in a chair. Then he sat down, pushed his desk chair close to mine, and put his hand on my shoulder. "It's all right, Jason. That's why we do these exams, to make sure you're fit for racing."

 _Fit for racing?_ I thought dully. _I shouldn't even be behind the wheel of a car._

Doc put my thoughts into words. "I can't reinstate your track license until you get a proper vision test. And before you race here again, I'll need proof that you're wearing corrective lenses." He fished around in his desk and pulled out a card.

"I have a friend who would do a good job for you. I can pull some strings so he won't charge too high a fee. I know you don't have much money."

 _Good old Doc. He thinks I'm upset about the cost. He has no idea what this is going to cost me._

I closed my eyes. Doc didn't know anything about my real job and I sure wasn't going to tell him now.

 _ISO will cover me, all right, right up until I lose my G clearance_.

I remembered the health standards from our recruit days. Minimal health problems were acceptable. But serious issues could derail your career. I could hear the Chief's voice in my head, telling us how he was denied his childhood dream of test pilot due to severe nearsightedness. I took the card.

Doc said that I could sit in his office as long as I wanted to and I took him up on his offer. I didn't want to see any of the guys at the track. Who knew what they had heard? Rumor would get around soon enough that I had been suspended on a medical. No one gets suspended for medical reasons; everyone knows that the track yearly physical is just a formality. Unless someone overheard the eye exam, I would be rumored to be on drugs, seriously ill, or both. It didn't help any that the rumors might be true.

I couldn't handle witnessing my character dissection firsthand. The last thing I needed right then was to get into a fistfight. My head ached and I felt clammy and cold. Doc gave me a worried expression as he gathered his coat and lunchbox.

"Are you sure you don't need a ride home?"

 _Because you sure as hell shouldn't be driving_ , I could almost hear him thinking. I didn't need Doc to worry about me too.

"I'll be fine," I said, trying to sound normal while sitting in the middle of my shattered world. "I'll call Mark to come and get me." I didn't have any intention of calling you, but Doc didn't need to know that.

Doc nodded and walked to the door. "All right, Jason. Call me if you need anything."

"Will do," I answered. "And thanks."

Doc nodded. "Don't sweat it. See you, Jason."

I sat alone in Doc's office for a long time, trying to decide what to do. I needed to keep my track license. That meant I had to have an eye exam somewhere and not cheat by using the implant. It had been a long time since I had just sat still in my off-hours without worrying about my implant or the time. I looked around the room with my non-enhanced vision and noticed something disturbing.

My visual acuity wasn't consistent. One minute, I could read the titles on Doc's bookshelf. The next minute, the words blurred. In and out, my vision faded, sharpened, and faded again. I felt sick to my stomach.

 _Why isn't the implant working? What am I going to do?_

The Chief was out. _If he hears even half of what's wrong with me, he'll suspend me and throw me in the infirmary._

Going to Doc's friend was a bad idea, too. _With my visual field fluctuating like this … Any competent physician who completes my exam might suspect that something else is wrong with me. I can't have any medical tests. What if they detect the implant?_

Remember when the Chief warned us that Spectra was recruiting doctors to check for cerebonically enhanced humans, hoping to stumble upon the G-Force team? I wasn't sure if he was telling us the truth or just trying to scare us, but I couldn't take that chance. I couldn't risk blowing my cover. I was thinking that maybe I could go to that one-hour eye place at the mall when the Bird Scramble sounded.

I leapt to my feet and ran out of Doc's office, across the garage, and out to my car.

 _Damn._ Everything was blurry. I consciously willed the implant to function. My entire visual field seemed like it was pulsating. To make things worse, some jerk had taken a joyride in my car while I was in with Doc. The entire backseat smelled like beer and the odor was beyond nauseating. I drove as fast as I could to meet up with the Phoenix, but you know already know what happened. I never made it.

I still can't believe that I hit Don's mother with the car. I was speeding away from the track and driving down that road near the park when I got disoriented and lost control of the wheel. All of a sudden she came out of nowhere and stepped right in front of my bumper. I don't know what happened. All I remember is seeing a flash of light, a woman's face, and hearing a loud scream. I slammed on the brakes as hard as I could.

Thank God I didn't hit her hard. She was more shaken than hurt. What could I do? I took her home and made sure she was comfortable. I didn't want to drive after that. I sat with her for awhile and then drove home slowly. It was one of the worst days of my life. I wanted to quit the team.

I know that the Chief suspected something was wrong after that. But how could I tell him the truth? I didn't even know what was going on.

You saw what happened with Don, and I know you can guess the rest: my vision went out completely in Don's lab. I don't know if it was the stress of seeing Don alive after all that time or my fury at his defection or what. One minute I could see him and the next, everything went white.

That was the first time that I had problems in combat. But after we got back, I took a few days off and felt better. So I didn't expect things to go so badly when we went to Spectra.

Do we really need to rehash this too? I'll bet you can guess what I'm going to say.

When I hit my head on the back wall of the Phoenix, it triggered massive double vision. I never could see right after that, in birdstyle or out, until after my surgery. I had terrible headaches and I was just so nauseous. I shouldn't have attempted the Whirlwind Pyramid but I just couldn't tell you the truth. I don't know why. Well, that's not true. I do know why: I wanted you to believe in me.

There, I said it. It took me 8 pages, but I said it. Your opinion matters to me and I didn't want you to look down on me. I knew I was good and truly screwed at that point. I didn't see any way of things getting better. I just wanted to stay on the team.

So maybe now you'll understand why I didn't tell you that I was still having balance problems after the surgery. Maybe you won't. I just wanted … I don't know … to be left alone. I wanted it to be over.

This is so hard for me to write, but you know anyway: I still can't fly. I can run, I can jump, I can land a few aerials, but in combat? No. Not yet. Not even close.

Which reminds me … You were right. Keyop didn't miss your precious meeting because he met some girl. And I didn't fall while rock climbing. Keyop knew something was wrong with me out on the island and followed me out to where I was training. I just wanted to miss my jumps in peace, you know? But you know Keyop. He tailed me one afternoon and I caught him red-handed. He ran away from me and jumped off the cliffs.

What could I do? I couldn't tell him that I couldn't fly. I had to go after him. I guess I looked as terrible in the air as I felt. I knew I was falling but there was nothing I could do. Keyop caught me and probably saved my life.

And that's how we started training together. I made him promise not to tell you about my problems, so don't go getting mad at him all over again. I'm getting better with the aerials. Keyop is one hell of a good teacher. I couldn't have passed the fitness exam without him. He was the one who figured out that I can actually fly better now with my eyes closed. He's been more patient with me than I ever was with him. My balance is improving – just ask Keyop. But it's been a long slow process, a lot slower than I ever expected.

Otherwise … I'm fit for duty. I've told you everything, I promise. Except …


	3. Chapter 3

_Except for what?_ Mark turned the paper over. The back of the page was blank.

 _What the hell?_

Mark grabbed the papers, slammed them into a stack, and stormed down to Jason's temporary quarters. He pounded on the door as loudly as he could.

"Jason?!"

Jason opened the door a crack. The room was dimly lit and it was obvious that he had been true to his word. Jason still looked half asleep. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked at the light coming in from the hall.

"What is it, Mark?" Jason sounded irritated. "Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

Mark ignored Jason's request. He whipped off his reading glasses and used them to gesture at the memo. "What's the meaning of this? What do you mean, that's everything except? Except for what?" Mark shoved his glasses into his back pocket and looked at Jason expectantly.

Jason waved a hand in the air and stifled a yawn.

Mark tried to stay calm, but memories kept surging forward: Jason passed out in his quarters, Jason lying still on the hospital gurney, the Chief's voice, raw with emotion, saying that Jason might not make it. He glared at his second.

"Oh, that," Jason finally answered. "Nothing much. I just wanted to tell you in person. Since Zark's minions are going to come looking for this," Jason indicated the memo, "I wanted to make sure you gave it back."

Jason reached for the pages, but he was still sleepy and his reflexes were slower than Mark's. Mark pulled the papers away and held his ground.

"No. Not until you start talking. Now what's going on?"

Jason sighed, admitting Mark into his room with a sweep of his hand.

"You might as well get comfortable," Jason said, gesturing to the desk chair. Mark noticed it was the only bare spot in the room. Dirty clothes and racing magazines seemed to cover every square inch of the floor. Mark stepped over a picture of a buxom blonde sprawled over a hot rod and sat down. He glared at his second, but softened when he noticed that Jason was pacing. Whatever he had to say, it wasn't going to be easy for him.

Finally, Jason turned. "I want you to schedule me for a level E diagnostic."

"Okay …" Mark tried to think of what that would entail and felt his stomach tighten. "Type one or two?"

"One." Jason stopped pacing and looked away. "My hearing is fine."

 _Good. That's one less thing I have to worry about._

"What's going on with your vision?" Mark said.

Jason shrugged. "Nothing much. Nothing like before. My eyes aren't going out on me, if that's what you're wondering. But …" Jason chewed his lip and studied Mark. "I think I need glasses."

Mark could have laughed out loud. "Glasses? That's it?"

Jason frowned at him, arms crossed. "You don't have to look so smug about it. I could lose my G clearance over this."

Mark made a face and shook his head. "No, you couldn't." _Is that why you kept things secret for so long?_ "Where did you get a crazy idea like that?"

"From you, freaking out every year over the damned eye exam!" Jason thundered.

Mark could feel his face growing warm. He didn't look Jason in the eye when he responded. "It's one thing for the Chief to know that I need reading glasses when my eyes are tired. It's an entirely different thing for ISO to require me to wear glasses." He ventured a glance at Jason's face. "I never wanted to have to wear glasses as part of my standard uniform. I knew that if I was well rested, I could still pass the eye test."

"But the entrance requirements …" Jason looked nonplussed.

"Apply to recruits," Mark said. He smiled at Jason. "No one is going to take your Level G status now."

Jason was furious. "They just about did, Mark. I barely passed the fitness exam."

Mark shook his head. "That's different. Fitness standards apply to everyone. The health requirements are stricter for recruits. I guess once you've seen a few battles they figure everybody has a few war wounds. No one is going to take down the Condor over a pair of glasses. Engineering can always build your prescription into your visor. Besides," Mark added, "you might not have to wear glasses for long anyway."

Jason was still angry, but he gave Mark a curious look. "What're you talking about?"

"Your implant. When it's fully calibrated, the implant should correct for any visual defects you might have. That's what always driven me crazy with mine; the techs can never get it quite right. In any case, I think you would have been wearing glasses a long time ago if you didn't have the implant."

"And you know this how?" Jason unfolded his arms and sat down on the bed.

"From the way your implant failed. There were several things you mentioned in your memo that indicate it was failing in multiple areas over a long time."

Jason recrossed his arms protectively. "Such as?"

"For one," Mark held up a finger, "there never should have been an extended lag time between when you fired up your implant in civilian mode to when you experienced enhanced vision. With my implant, it's almost immediate. It doesn't sound like it ever was for you."

Mark looked to Jason for clarification. Jason chewed his lip and nodded.

"For another," Mark went on, "the lag time you describe at the end of the two-hour implant cycle shouldn't have been something that you noticed. Our implants do recharge every two hours in civilian mode, but that should never have created a perceptible loss of function."

Jason closed his eyes. Mark suspected that he was recalling some particularly devastating loss of vision.

"Finally," Mark continued, "your initial vision loss at the track probably marked the time when the implant began to seriously malfunction. I think you experienced blurriness and problems with your vision when your implant stopped compensating for your nearsightedness. Over time, the implant began to send such flawed signals to your brain that you had extreme vision loss. I think the pulsating visual field you describe in Doc's office resulted from the implant trying unsuccessfully to correct your vision."

Jason threw Mark a quizzical look. "Aren't the implants dormant in civilian mode?"

"Not exactly," Mark said. "I'll do the best I can to explain, but you should really ask the Chief. He's the one who explained it to me." Mark looked over at Jason, who was regarding him rather patiently.

He cleared his throat and continued. "The way I understand it is that the implant primarily functions as a sort of bridge between the central nervous system and the brain. The implant takes in nerve impulses and adjusts them, if necessary, before sending them along to the brain. In birdstyle or when we access the implant in civilian mode, the main effect is to amplify everything except perception of pain: increasing speed, eye-to-hand coordination, visual processing, you name it. That's part of why you never feel relaxed in birdstyle." Mark paused to look at Jason. Jason nodded and gestured at Mark to continue.

"Now, in birdstyle, things are a little different. We also have that external sensor array in the top of our helmets collecting additional visual and auditory data. As you know, this sensor sends a running data dump to Zark. But it also acts like an extra sensory organ, providing data to fine-tune the implant and further enhance our vision and hearing."

Jason shrugged, so Mark continued.

"When not in use in civilian mode, the implant only adjusts nerve impulses if they fall outside of an expected normal range. The other part of what the implant should be doing during those five minute intervals you described is to calibrate against known standards. The idea is that, over time, normal expected values for your body are adjusted for things like growth or weight gain."

Mark looked over at Jason. "Your implant must have been calibrating some, but it clearly wasn't working like it should."

Jason cocked an eyebrow and made a face at Mark. "It's amazing that I could function at all," he said.

Mark couldn't tell if Jason was being sarcastic or not. He settled for not.

"I know. I'm sorry, Jason." Mark looked down at his hands. "Reading over your report, I …" He paused and sighed. "I should have realized that something was wrong a long time ago."

Jason stood up and pointed a finger at Mark accusingly. "Don't go starting that again. I need your pity like I need another hole in the head."

Mark shook his head. "It's not that. It's just … I really appreciate your honesty. I know the Chief will, too."

Jason gave Mark a stricken look. "You're not planning on sharing all of that with him, are you?" He shook his head. "I didn't bear my soul for the Chief's benefit. Most of that stuff isn't relevant now, anyway."

Mark looked away and closed his eyes. _Should I tell him? He's been straight with me. Maybe it's time._

Mark took a shuddering breath before turning his attention back to Jason. When he opened his eyes, Jason had fixed him with an odd look.

"What's going on, Mark?"

Mark sighed. "The Chief wants to schedule me for a level A diagnostic. A surgical team is on standby."

Jason swore and slammed both fists on his desk. After a minute, he sat down on the bed, deflated, and reached over to touch Mark on the shoulder.

"Are you all right?"

Mark drummed his fingers on the desk. "I'm not sure," he answered softly, turning to look at Jason. "I guess we'll find out in a couple of days."

"You didn't tell me anything was wrong." Jason tried to sound indignant, but Mark found the irony amusing. He smirked at Jason.

Jason waved a hand at him. "Yeah, I know. Why don't you just set a good example and tell me what's up?" His voice softened. "Don't play hero, Mark. Look what it's done for me."

Mark stretched his legs. "I'd like to talk to you about it. But not here. Meet me downstairs by the mini-subs and let's go to the mainland." He picked up Jason's memo and headed for the door.

Jason gawked at him. "It's eleven o'clock at night."

Mark shrugged. "So what?" _I need to talk to you, Jason. I need to talk to somebody besides the Chief. Please don't make me go through this alone._

Jason seemed to sense what Mark couldn't say. "All right. Give me a chance to take a shower, okay? And give me that." Jason grabbed the memo out of Mark's hands.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for your comment on the last chapter, Kondoru. You gave me something to think about. I do think Galaxy Security tends to work G-Force too hard, thinking of them as machines almost more than humans. As for Jason, imagine constantly being told that you are "dedicated, inseparable, invincible!" I don't think he could imagine his life away from the team. He's driven to do this work, but was also designed and molded for it. That's different than Joe, who drove himself too hard out of a need for revenge.

Anyway, back to the story. Last chapter!

* * *

Mark didn't talk for the entire ride over from Crescent Coral. Jason waited until Mark had safely docked the mini-submarine at the harbor and they were walking toward the nearest bar, a hole in the wall known as the Rusty Anchor, before trying to draw him out.

"So?" Jason ventured.

"So," Mark said, "What I want to know is why you need a comprehensive eye exam. You've had several physicals since your surgery. The Chief never mentioned any problems with your vision."

"The Chief gave me the once-over right after surgery. Since then, he's just tested me in his office." Jason smirked. "He's had the same eye chart since we were eight. Can I help it if I've memorized the 20/20 line?"

Mark smiled back, although weakly. "I'm sure he'll be glad to hear it."

"I hadn't thought about that." Jason frowned.

Mark put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Jason. He'll just be happy that you're talking to me. The Chief has bigger things on his mind right now."

Mark's voice was tense. His hand felt heavy on Jason's shoulder. Jason tried to remember the last time he'd seen Mark this upset.

 _Was it after Cronus died?_ So much tension was radiating from Mark that Jason could feel his own neck stiffen. _I wish I knew what to say. But I don't even know the extent of what's wrong._

They stopped at the steps leading down to the bar. _A dark and dank proposition_ , Jason thought. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. "Want to go in or keep walking?"

"Let's walk." Mark's voice was set. "I have something I need to show you and I'd rather do it in private."

"All right," Jason said, hesitantly. _What the hell?_ But nothing could have prepared him for what Mark did next.

Mark stopped, reached a hand to his head, and handed Jason a small button. Jason looked at him quizzically. "What's this?"

Mark was studying his face closely. "My hearing aid," he said.

Jason looked down at the small device in his hand. "Since when?"

But Mark had started walking again. Jason practically had to jog to catch up with him.

"Since when?" Jason repeated, making sure that he was facing Mark before he spoke. Jason handed the small device back to his commander.

Mark stopped to put it back in. "I think it started when we were attacking the Spectran base, but I'm not sure," he said. "Do you remember when you hit your head?"

Jason looked at Mark and frowned. "Which time?"

"On board the ship, before we got to the base."

Jason nodded. "Of course. That's when my double vision went crazy."

"When Spectra was shooting at us, do you remember those bright flashes of light?"

Jason winced. "I wish I didn't. My head never felt the same after that."

"Well," Mark said. "Mine didn't either. I think that's when it happened."

"What happened?"

They were walking through a little park near the beach. Mark sat down on a bench and Jason plunked down next to him. There was a light breeze, carrying the aroma of sea salt and a faint odor of dead fish. Jason watched the moonlight dance across the water as he waited for Mark to answer.

"The Chief thinks that Spectra has figured out a way to scramble our implants using bursts of light."

"Are you sure?"

Mark shook his head. "We won't know anything for sure until the Chief completes my diagnostic. There were specific problems with yours. They are going to look for the same signature on mine."

"Is anyone else affected?" Jason swallowed. _Please, let him say no._

"Not that we know of. The Chief thinks that when you and I were hit with Dr. Glock's detransmutation ray, it weakened our implants and left them susceptible to damage."

Jason felt cold. "What kind of damage?" He couldn't stop himself from pressing the issue. "What else is wrong, Mark? Are you having balance problems? Vision loss? Headaches?" The wind had picked up and Jason could feel the goosebumps rising on his arms.

 _This can't be happening_ , he thought. _Not to Mark. Not now._

Mark held up his hand to stop Jason's questions as he shook his head. "My eyes don't seem to be affected. And I've always had headaches, although they're a lot worse now."

Jason frowned as Mark continued.

"But my hearing loss is progressively getting worse. Unlike your early vision problems, it's the same whether or not I'm in birdstyle. That's how the Chief knows there's a problem with the implant."

"Because it's not correcting for your hearing loss?" Jason asked.

"Right. Either I suffered hearing loss earlier and the implant recently stopped compensating for it or else something damaged my hearing at the same time the implant quit working."

"How do you know that Spectra has anything to do with it?"

Mark held his hands apart. "Each implant records an array of our physical data, from lung capacity to the curvature of the cornea. The implants doesn't just recharge every two hours. They both recharge and send a diagnostic report to Center Neptune."

Jason let out a breath. "But … that doesn't make any sense. The Chief should have hauled me into medical months ago."

Mark nodded. "The Chief found a number of problems after you got sick. There was huge backlog of our physical data that no one had ever analyzed. You can bet heads were rolling over that one."

He gave Jason a knowing look. "And your implant stopped sending the required data logs at the same time mine did. Right after our attack on Spectra. Since our Medical staff was headed by that defector Sanger back then, well, that just made a bad situation a whole lot worse."

"But I was having problems way before then." Jason looked at Mark with some skepticism.

"I know," said Mark. "So now we know two things. First, there was a structural problem with your implant prior to the attack on Spectra. And second, the light burst on Spectra magnified your problems. The Chief and I think it started mine."

Jason drew his knees up protectively. "Go on."

Mark shook his head. "I didn't realize anything was wrong at first. But then Princess started complaining that I'd been in a bad mood, ignoring everyone but especially her and Keyop. When I went over the logs for our last few missions, I realized she was right. But I hadn't been ignoring them. I hadn't heard them talking to me at all."

Mark stood up and paced in front of the bench. "I went to the Chief about it. It was hard enough to talk to him then." Mark swallowed. "You were barely out of surgery. Once the Chief completed my hearing test, I could tell something was wrong. After he explained things to me, we both knew there was a much bigger problem. So far, it's only affected my hearing." Mark paused. "And now the headaches." He smiled grimly.

Jason felt his own head twinge in sympathy. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms in a vain effort to get warm, but he knew it wouldn't help. He was cold from the inside out.

"We don't know if or how the implant might fail next." Mark's voice was shaking. He crossed his arms and stood at the back of the bench.

 _Or when_ , Jason thought. He didn't know what to say. Jason remembered Mark sitting up with him night after night at the hospital. _Did Mark know that whole time that his implant might be damaged too? He never said anything_.

"I'm sorry." Jason swallowed. "I wish you didn't have to go through this. I know how hard it's going to be."

Mark smiled at him. "I'm just glad you're better. Promise me that you'll follow up with the Chief about your eye exam. And make sure that your implant is sending back data like it should. I need you back on duty now." Mark stopped his lecture and gave Jason a haunted look. "I might be out of commission for a long time."

"But …" Jason shook his head, trying to sort things out. "I'm ready for duty. I've been practicing my landings with the Phoenix on simulator and I can definitely handle the bird missiles. But you know about my balance problems. At best, it's going to be months before I'm any good in the field. Are you sure you want to demote Darien to keep me?" _Please say yes_ , he implored silently.

Mark looked at Jason in raw disbelief.

"Have you been listening to me at all? I don't know if I'll make it back to the team. Ever." His voice cracked. "G-Force needs a leader. God knows Darien can't do it. Princess would try her best, but she doesn't have the experience. I need you to take command." Mark swallowed. "We nearly lost you. I put off my diagnostic until you were better."

"You did what?" Jason stood up and looked at Mark indignantly. "How long have you known about this?" he demanded. "Since the attack at Spectra? That was months ago, Mark! What were you thinking?"

Mark faced him, angrily. "What could I do, Jason? Zoltar wasn't going to stand around and wait for us to get better. I couldn't take any time off when you were sick. Our team needed a leader. I did my job."

"And you think it was worth risking your life? Are you crazy?" Jason demanded.

"Were you?" Mark retorted. He didn't try to mask the frustration in his voice. "I couldn't let the team down. After your surgery, Keyop was barely eating. Princess wouldn't talk to anyone. Tiny just sat and stared. I couldn't waltz right in and say, hey, I might be dying too."

Jason felt his fingers curl into fists. "When were you going to tell me this?"

Mark shrugged. "I wanted you back on your feet first. I figured if you knew about it you'd push yourself too hard. I didn't want you to have another setback."

 _My ankle_ , Jason thought angrily. _Mark risked his life for an extra two months because I broke my ankle. Damn him!_ Jason threw the punch before he thought through what he was doing.

Mark caught Jason's fist. "Do you really want to do this?"

"Damn it, Mark." Jason backed away, furious. "I never asked you to risk your life for mine."

"You're right, you didn't. Don't blame yourself for this." Mark turned so that Jason was forced to look him in the eye. "You can't take responsibility. It was my decision."

Jason swallowed and turned away. "You never should have done it."

"What you can do for me now," Mark said, ignoring Jason, "is take over leading the team. When we get back to Center Neptune, I'm discharging myself on medical leave so the Chief can run the diagnostics to prepare for the surgical team. You're in charge."

Mark looked at Jason wearily and sat back down. "And good luck with Darien. You're going to have to hold your tongue just to keep the peace."

Jason nodded. He realized then how pale and drawn Mark looked. Jason couldn't tell if that was due to stress or illness. He suspected both. Jason knew he couldn't fix Mark's health.

 _But I can ease his stress. I hope._

"Well," Jason said, "if I'm in charge, then I'm ordering you back home to bed." He reached out a hand to pull Mark to his feet. "I'll brief the team tomorrow. When's your surgery?"

Mark gave him a grave look. "Whenever I want. The Chief gave me the option."

"Tomorrow it is," Jason said. "I mean it, Mark. You're not going to get any better without it." _I should know._

Mark sighed. "All right. But you and I need to have a meeting with the Chief first. He's going to want an overview of your health memo."

Jason rolled his eyes.

"It's important," Mark insisted. "I'm sorry to have to force the issue, Jason, but the Chief needs to know where your problem areas were so he can design my diagnostic to check for likely failure points."

Jason crossed his arms. "You should have told me that to begin with."

Mark gave him a wry smile. "I guess we both could have been more honest with each other." Mark turned away and appeared to be studying an ocean freighter as it was leaving the harbor. Jason noticed that his blue eyes reflected the moonlight on the water.

"I just wish there was something more that I could do." Mark looked at Jason with a pained expression. "You know, just in case."

"Will you quit talking like that?" Jason punched him playfully on the arm. "The Chief is going to open up your head, ooh and aah over your massive brain, and put you back together again. Piece of cake."

Mark laughed and Jason joined in. When their laughter faded, Mark spoke thoughtfully.

"Thanks, Jase. I've missed talking to you."

Jason felt his stomach clench. _Why is it so hard for us to talk to each other?_

"Me too. We should try it more often, Mark." He held out his hand for Mark to shake. "Deal?"

Mark smiled and pulled him in to a bear hug. "Deal."

Jason hugged him back before pulling away. "You're going to be fine, you know."

Mark looked away. "I hope so. I'm just glad to have you back. It's one less thing I have to worry about."

"Why don't you tell me what else is on your mind?" Jason suggested as they started walking back to the dock. He swung an arm across Mark's shoulder.

"Well," Mark started, "I'm having a problem with Dude, I mean, Darien. He and Keyop just don't get along and …"

 _He's really talking to me._ Jason smiled at Mark and nodded. _He believes in me enough to let me lead the team._ Despite his concerns about Mark, Jason felt more peaceful than he had in a long time. _I can finally repay him for everything he's done for me._

As Mark finished up one story about Darien and launched into the next, one thought stuck out in Jason's mind: _Mark trusts me. In spite of everything, he still believes in me._

Jason took a deep breath and made a silent promise to his commander.

 _I won't let you down._


End file.
